


stay (just a little bit longer)

by wildcard_47



Category: Mad Men
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:05:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/pseuds/wildcard_47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the following tumblr prompt: "things you said when you thought I was asleep."</p>
            </blockquote>





	stay (just a little bit longer)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the [Maurice Williams song of the same name.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1Z_hskvz1M) This piece is basically going to fit into another AU series in which Lane's alive and in New York, but Joan goes to California instead of moving to accounts.

Joan closed the door to Kevin’s room as softly as she could manage; the latch clicked shut with a metallic snap and a slight creaking noise from the hinges. He was sound asleep in his twin bed, with one arm slung over his eyes and a tiny sock foot poking through two layers of heavy blankets and plaid sheets. She didn’t know why she’d had the urge to check on him again. He was fine.

Letting out a breath, she picked her way through the dim hallway and into the living room. Here, even in the darkness, and without her glasses, she could still see the bright tall shape of the Christmas tree in the far left corner, tucked into the little two-foot recess between the arm of the sofa, the far wall, and the doorway to her bedroom. The lights were unplugged, and the presents were still scattered underneath the tree in unorganized piles, but distant light from the windows played across the tinsel and reflected off the bulbs of the colorful ornaments. She tried not to glance back at the other side of the room—the half doorway leading to the kitchen, the blank face of the television set reflecting a lone figure in the living room—the worn leather suitcase sitting just beside the front door.

Outside, on the patio, wind rustled through the balcony, whistling around the corners of the building as the Santa Anas picked up. Her potted plants were probably going to be strung all over the place, come morning. Joan almost wanted to open the patio door and sit outside for a little while, enjoy the cool breeze. Sometimes, if the neighborhood was very quiet, she thought she could almost hear the sound of waves crashing onto the beach, a few miles away. More likely it was just some idiot who’d broken a fire hydrant and flooded the street.

She opened the door to her bedroom, crept inside, and shut it behind her, shedding her silk patterned kimono onto a chair that sat next to her bureau and padding toward the bed in her bare feet.

Lane was asleep, curled up on his right side, which she thought was a little unusual. In the two weeks since he’d arrived here, she’d noticed he usually slept on his back or stomach, with one arm or leg flung out across the mattress, like he was always reaching for her. They kept waking up in the weirdest knots, most mornings, stretching out stiff necks and backs and smiling at each other like idiots as they stumbled out of bed—and that wasn’t even counting the _morning-after_ mornings, when she’d bring him a cup of fresh tea and put it on his nightstand to get him stirring, or when he’d kiss her neck and hum out the most contented noise before murmuring something like _good morning._

Joan slipped under the covers as carefully as possible, trying not to shift her weight on the mattress too much, and startle Lane awake. He was a light sleeper. But, looking over at him, at the sweet lines of his face so relaxed in sleep, she couldn’t force herself to put her head down. His breathing was soft and even and she just kept thinking about how good it had been to have him here for the holidays. They’d had a few fun dinners out and afternoons at home and she’d had someone sane in the apartment to turn to when Kevin was being a little screaming monster.

_The three of them stood knee-deep in the shallow surf, toes digging into soft sand, sun so bright it was nearly blinding. Kevin was in his tiny swimming trunks with water lapping up to his chest, still soaked all over, and grabbing both of their hands. He was so excited he could hardly stand still._

_On the count of three, Lane called loudly, looking right at Joan. His collared shirt and trouser cuffs were rolled to his elbows and knees, and his usual suit vest was still drying under their umbrella. Her beach cover-up had gotten soaked, too, so she was down to her turquoise one-piece and the silk scarf holding her hair back from her face._

_One! Together, they counted off, and swung the little boy backwards, while Kevin yelped in excitement. Throw me! Throw me!_

_Two! They swung him in a wider arc, higher and faster, and Lane was grinning._

_Three! Kevin screamed with happiness as they tossed him a few feet forward, and as he splashed into the nearest wave, flailing all over, Joan was laughing so hard she felt like she could barely stand up. And when she looked over at Lane, he was laughing, too, wiping seawater off of his glasses with his shirt pocket._

Joan closed her eyes against the memory, and curled in next to Lane, close enough that she could reach out and touch his arm with her left hand. Her fingertips brushed against his bicep, and the sleeve of his worn pajamas, and the toes of her foot traced over the side of his left ankle. She could wake him up, if she wanted to. She could wake him up and ease the tightness in her chest and admit the truth that felt like it was bubbling up all the time, now, the truth that was choking her.

“Stay,” she whispered, so quietly it was like nobody had spoken at all.

He just kept breathing, in and out, his body warm and familiar next to hers. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to say it one more time.

“Please.”

All he did was sigh heavily in his sleep, in a way that made her think he was probably dreaming.  She pulled her hand back, and scooted slightly forward, tucking her palm under her cheek and keeping her eyes closed.


End file.
